


Alive With Open Eyes

by Cesare, helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles You Slut, Domination/submission, Flirting, Light BDSM, M/M, Mismatched expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd rather stay, though," Charles smirked, all too pleased with himself, "if you'll have me."  </p>
<p>"No," Erik told him flatly. "Not like this. If you start this, you take it seriously. You're mine until I'm through with you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive With Open Eyes

Erik opened the door to his borrowed bedroom and found Charles already there, a smile widening to ridiculous dimensions on his face. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in a way that could only be posed: leaning back a bit on one arm extended behind him, hand on the top edge of the blankets as if ready at any moment to pull them down, his legs neatly crossed, hips tilted. 

The wool sweater over an Oxford shirt didn't quite fit the overall picture, but Erik supposed it was rather cold in this large, drafty house at night. And there was no telling how long Charles had been waiting here to present this calculated tableau. 

"Should I find another room?" Erik asked.

"Only if you want another one," said Charles easily. "Or more than one. You can have a new room for every day of the week and two on Sundays, if you like. You'd be doing us a favor, airing them out." 

"What brings you to this one?" 

"You," Charles said, amused and patient and infuriating. "I haven't cheated. You told me to stay out of your head and I've done my best. But it doesn't take telepathy to notice the way you look at me. I had the impression that I'd probably be welcome if I dropped by." 

"Probably." Erik studied him. 

"Most likely," Charles agreed, still smiling broadly, perfectly cheerful, perfectly glib. 

"And if you're wrong?" 

"That would be disappointing. But no harm done; I'll go if you like," said Charles, not moving at all. "I'd rather stay, though," and he smirked, all too pleased with himself, "if you'll have me." 

"No," Erik told him flatly. "Not like this. If you start this, you take it seriously. You're mine until I'm through with you. If you don't care for those terms… there's the door, you can find your way out as easily as you found your way in." 

Charles's expression faded from genteel amusement to perplexity. "Take it seriously?" 

"Good night, Charles. If you'll excuse me." 

"I'm only asking for clarification," Charles stood, hands spread low as he approached Erik. "Surely that's allowed."

Erik indulged in the tiniest of smiles. Already Charles looked considerably more invested than he appeared a moment ago. "I think you're confusing ‘clarification' with ‘challenge'. I don't do this very often; when I do, it's important that it be worth my while."

Charles's expression relaxed a bit, and the cheeky, flirtatious smile returned to his face. "I have all sorts of ways to make it worth your while."

It might have been disappointing if Erik hadn't been thoroughly expecting a volley like that. Having Charles on his terms was going to be a challenge, one that Erik wouldn't mind in the least-- but he wasn't a man given to compromise, and he needed to make that clear.

"I'm not a human in a pub with a cosmetic mutation, Charles," Erik said. "I'm not interested in letting you waste your gifts trying to convince me you're a better prospect than you actually are." Charles's brows met at that; Erik simply smiled thinly again. "Or in letting you waste your charm trying to divert me from what I can really draw out of you. _If_ I were to take you on."

Charles folded his arms over his chest and looked at Erik. If Erik thought Charles had presented a challenge before, it was nothing compared to the truculent attitude he adopted now; maybe Erik had pushed him a bit far, suggesting Charles's combination of mind tricks and pick-up lines were meant to oversell what he really offered.

But Charles still seemed interested, if a little subdued now. And if nothing else... he wasn't walking away.

"And what is it," he said, "you think _you_ can really draw out of me?"

There had been others, over the years; other people whose urge to serve and _belong_ had been nearer to the surface, easier to tap into. There'd been a few men and women who'd interested Erik so intently that he could think of little else, apart from having them on their knees, for whatever short time they'd had.

With Charles, it was different. Erik wanted-- it was possible that all the things he wanted were because, for the first time, he was faced with the possibility of taking command of someone _like him_ , someone more than human, someone who could know Erik fully, _completely_. And still, perhaps, want him in return. Someone who was, at last, his equal.

Or it might have simply been the curve of Charles's mouth, and the easy, limber stance he adopted when he flirted. It might have been his size and build, the way Erik knew just by looking that he could overwhelm Charles with nothing but the strength of his body, even if he could never hope to conquer Charles's mind. It might, Erik had to admit, be purely physical.

But that might be _why_ ; Charles was asking _what_. What Erik believed he could draw out of Charles...

«Everything,» he thought, pushing the word forward, out of his mind and, he hoped, into Charles's. Surrounding that word was every wisp of emotion he'd felt since meeting Charles that night in the water, since the moment Charles told him with that same single word that Erik was _understood;_ and every instant of lust he'd had when watching Charles's mouth, or his hands, or the way he held himself.

Charles rocked back on his heels a little, unprepared-- whether for the attempt at mental communication itself, the sentiment, or the depth of feeling Erik was trying to communicate, there was no way to tell.

A few moments ticked by as Charles regrouped and began, "That's..." he studied Erik and ventured directly, «That's not very informative. I doubt you literally want everything.» He recovered a bit of his smirk. «You probably don't want me to paint the room chartreuse or do a Morris dance. A little specificity...?»

«Specifically?» Erik thought. «You, laid bare, spread across my bed or kneeling on my floor. Ready to serve, when I'm ready to take you.» It was his turn to cross his arms to express his obstinance. "Not what you had in mind?"

«...Not exactly,» Charles admitted, and then he countered with images, brightly visualized and compelling: the two of them rolling into bed together, exchanging secretive smiles. Charles sliding down Erik's body and taking him into his mouth, slipping off and pumping Erik with his hand, saying something ridiculous to make him laugh before Charles went back to sucking him, Erik's hand on his hair.

It was light, casual, but still, affectionate. Good to know Charles wasn't being completely flighty about this. But it wasn't enough. Far from enough.

Erik shook his head, more than a little regretful, and offered up the truth, unconcealed for once. «I want you a little too much to settle for the limited amount you've given your other bedmates.»

Charles projected right away, as if it were startled out of him, «If you want me, then what was that 'better prospect' remark about--?» He frowned. «No, no, never mind that.» He assumed his coy expression again to try, «I wouldn't say limited--» But he seemed too flustered now to make it work.

Erik closed the distance between them and slid his hand around the side of Charles's neck, thumb running gently up and down, just to the side of the subtle bump of his Adam's apple. Charles tensed very slightly and then relaxed into it, allowing it, thrilling to it, even though his expression was puzzled as much as intrigued; even though he could stop it all with a thought.

"Not tonight," Erik told him quietly. "Mull all of this over, give it some consideration. Tomorrow, we'll find some time alone, and you can tell me to go to hell, or you can greet me from your knees."

This close, Erik could see that it was almost automatic, for Charles: the easy smile, the low insinuating tone, now just a little strained. "I don't have any problem being on my knees," he offered. And then, interestingly, Charles winced a little, possibly embarrassed to resort again to a ploy that had already fallen flat.

Much better than the smug complacency of the smirk Charles was wearing when he first greeted Erik. In the interest of keeping him off balance, Erik met the insinuating tone with one of his own, tightening his hand the least little bit on Charles's neck. "I certainly hope not."

If he needed a reminder why he considered this worth waiting for, Charles gave it to him. His lips parted and his eyes widened a little, and he looked up at Erik: searching, but _trusting._ He didn't pull away.

And if he needed a reminder why he felt he needed to wait, Charles gave him that too. "But nothing tonight?" He tried a mock pout, contriving to sound confidential and amused, though he missed by a mile, obviously thrown entirely off his game.

Erik leaned in and put his lips close to Charles's, grip on Charles's neck tightening that much more-- at the moment, he didn't trust Charles not to get greedy. The slight strain in Charles's muscles bore that out. He wasn't trying to take more, but Erik could feel him _wanting_ to.

Wanting was good; taking without asking might have made Erik give up on this altogether.

He was close enough for his breath to ghost against Charles's mouth as he murmured, "No. Nothing tonight."

Drawing back, he could see conflict playing across Charles's face. Confusion was the primary sentiment he could read; perhaps also some uncertainty as to whether or not he'd actually been rebuffed. Charles could have learned that easily enough. But he truly must have been keeping out of Erik's head as he claimed, or he never would have come to Erik with his typical breezy approach in the first place. 

"Then I suppose I'll go," Charles said finally. "Tomorrow...?"

Erik took a measured step away, nodding. "Until then."

Charles glanced at him again in frank consternation, donned a smile and gave a little shrug. "Til then," he said, turning to go.

That careless shrug was almost enough to make Erik tell him not to bother. Almost.

* * *

All throughout the next day, Charles was entirely on form. Working with the younger mutants individually in the morning, and in a group in the afternoon, he was concerned and patient, kind and encouraging. No veiled threats or treacly offers of reward, no goading, certainly no pain to motivate them. Charles rarely so much as raised his voice.

He was all hopeful expectation, setting out goals just beyond their reach and tirelessly boosting them to extend themselves. The kids didn't obey him because they were afraid of him. They followed his lead because they were anxious not to disappoint that boundless hope, eager to meet the possibilities he envisioned for them.

It was doubtless strange to find Charles's pedagogy so attractive, but then, Erik already knew himself to be perverse. Seeing Charles explain the principles of supersonic flight to Sean or talking seriously to Hank about Robert Louis Stevenson just made Erik want him even more. Erik watched him working with Raven as she transformed just her arm to throw off his attempt to catch hold of her, the pride on Charles's face as he jumped back and shook out his stung hand. He watched Charles stand fearlessly close to Alex as the glowing beams of his power shot in all directions, heard him say, "I know you're not going to hurt me. Trust yourself. I do." He saw it all and thought, _I want you. I want to do terrible things to you and make you like them._

Perversity also led him to display nothing but politesse to Charles all day, and throughout dinner; perversity sent him to his own bedroom alone, prompted him to reach for a book and read, rather than anticipating when Charles would show up. If he showed up.

An unacknowledged wire of tension finally relaxed in Erik's shoulders as he heard the tap on the door and felt, simultaneously, the touch of Charles's mind, wordless, «?»

Erik looked up, put the book aside and slid out of bed. "Come in."

Charles entered, closing the door behind him. "Good evening."

"It looks that way from here," said Erik. "How does it look from your side?"

He looked Erik over, and that obnoxious smirk reappeared. "Gorgeous."

Erik remained undeterred, even gave him a chilly smile. "But you're not on your knees."

"Well," Charles gave a little more of his weight to the door behind him, his posture inviting, "I thought I'd come in and let you tell me where."

Exhaling a measured breath, Erik let his relief show. It was a risk, setting out those terms for Charles, but he wanted Charles _his way_ and he wanted him _so much_... it was a little dizzying, to think he'd truly have him tonight. "Can your knees take the center of the floor?"

The smirk eased into a smile. "As easily as anywhere, I suppose." Charles crossed to the middle of the room, eyebrows raised inquiringly, and knelt.

Erik walked over to him and brushed Charles's hair back from his forehead, gently touching the side of his face where he tended to rest his fingers when he used his abilities. "Do you remember what I said when I first offered? That if we did this, you'd be mine until I'm through with you?"

Charles shut his eyes at Erik's touch, following the cue to use his telepathy. «Yes.» The direct mental communication carried more clarity than spoken words, and Erik received the clear impression that Charles didn't expect _until I'm through with you_ to last longer than the night.

Erik ran his fingers through Charles's hair again, scratching gently along the way. "I have a longer attention span than that. This could last a while. Does that concern you?"

Glancing up at him, Charles fell back on another flirtatious smile. "Should I be concerned?"

"If you'll miss having the opportunity to see other people while we're at this, then yes, you probably should."

This time Charles seemed to stop himself before answering lightly, and he considered a moment before answering. "If that's how you'd like it, certainly, I can abide by that."

"I really do need to specify things, don't I?" Erik took to one knee and regarded Charles more seriously. "I'm not given to frivolous attachments. You're lovely on your knees, but I want this more than once. I want it until we've run our course."

There was no artful amusement in Charles now, his voice flat. "Said course to be determined at your discretion, I venture to guess."

"That's usually the way I do things, yes." He stroked his fingers through Charles's hair again, not quite able to stop himself... it might be cheating, but he needed the connection for himself now, not just for Charles's sake.

It had a lovely effect, though; something troubled left Charles's face, his eyes falling shut again at the touch. "All right. So long as you accept I may have to adjust our terms if anything should interfere with training or our work here."

That could make for a very wide loophole, but... Erik _wanted_ this, damn it. Too readily, he answered, "Agreed." He rubbed his thumb in a small circle against Charles's temple. «Now what are we going to do about this, I wonder.»

Charles went entirely serious at that, and a little dubious, looking up at him with brows knitting. "You asked me to stay out of your mind. I'm doing my best not to get anything more from you than what you're trying to send to me."

"I know," Erik said. "And I'm grateful--" he couldn't possibly take that for granted, knowing how easily Charles's gift came to him, "but..." His thumb was light against Charles's temple, but he rested it there deliberately as he pushed his thoughts forward. «We're about to embark on something more intimate than partnership, or even friendship. And I don't see how we can start that while you're holding yourself back this way.»

«Then what do you propose?» Charles asked.

«You agree not to change my mind or influence what I ask of you. And in return, I stop asking you to stay out.» He couldn't quite stop himself from stroking that same spot, again and again; he'd seen Charles touch himself there so many times now it had become something of a tease. Just placing his fingers there felt... special. Charged.

«You're joking,» Charles frowned. «Is this some sort of test? If I agree to this too readily, you take it for proof you can't trust me after all...?»

«You're not going to like everything you see in my thoughts,» Erik cautioned him. «And you might balk at some of the things I'm going to ask you to do. It's not a gift, Charles; my mind isn't a welcoming place.»

«Maybe not, but... permission to read you, that's-- if you'd offered that in the first place you'd've had me in a heartbeat, you must know that.»

«No...» Erik let his fingers roam all the way down from Charles's forehead, over his temple, down the side of his face, playing along the line of his jaw. «No, I didn't. But I wouldn't have wanted it to be leverage. Negotiation, yes, but...» He paused, a little amused. «I have the oddest feeling that you just scored a point somewhere.» He wondered if his tendency to use leverage, versus Charles's tendency to use negotiation, was being subverted here. If so... to a good purpose, he thought.

Charmingly enough, Charles was coloring a little. «If I did, it's only... everyone says the same thing when they first find out, you know. 'Promise not to do it to me.' I haven't had permission with anyone who knows. I've wanted that.»

«It means some sacrifices. Surprising you will probably be next to impossible...» Erik smiled again. «But I wasn't planning to rely on surprise for everything, and--» he couldn't help himself, honesty breaking through. «None of us should have to hide what we are. Be less than what we are.»

Charles nodded, with a little smile that faded into solemnity. «All right. Obviously. Of course,» he answered, meeting Erik's gaze. Erik felt nothing different, but the change registered so clearly on Charles's face: he stared up at Erik, subtly but visibly transformed.

It made Erik incredibly aware of every thought racing through his mind: _this is so different from how I normally get involved with people,_ and _he isn't going to like everything he sees, this will be difficult at times,_ and _sometimes I hate this part,_ and then a cascade of images, the things he'd pictured Charles doing tonight: his face pressed against Erik's thigh while Erik stroked his hair, his clothes neatly piled on the floor as he climbed into Erik's bed, his body warm and tight on top of Erik's, kissing Erik as if trying to learn how to please him...

Charles flushed a little more deeply, smiling up at him. «I can do all of that, gladly.»

Erik knew he should clarify... leaving it unfinished could burn one or both of them in the end. But he couldn't bear it, he couldn't wait, sliding his hand to the back of Charles's head and drawing him forward. «Come here, then.»

Moving readily with him, Charles asked, «What should I do with my hands? That wasn't as clear.» He showed Erik how he'd received the image: several ideas conflicting, Charles's hands on Erik or bound behind him, clasped at the small of his back, cuffed behind his neck.

«Behind your back,» Erik answered. The question pleased him as much as it surprised him. It wasn't often the other person participated actively, as opposed to simply going where he took them. This was all going to be so very, very different from what he'd imagined.

Charles linked his hands behind his back obediently; there was an indulgent air to the gesture that gave Erik pause for a moment. But once Charles settled into the position Erik had pictured, clasping his own wrists each in the opposite hand, his expression became so attentive and he moved so pliantly that Erik couldn't possibly find fault.

«Here. This...» He tugged Charles closer and held him there, his cheek pressed warmly against Erik's thigh, near enough to Erik's cock to tantalize... but that would be rushing things. Erik ought to hold Charles off, make him settle for a kiss tonight. He could do anything, take anything, he could push Charles onto the floor and have him right now, he knew Charles would welcome it. But there was a rhythm to this, and Erik made himself wait for it.

Turning his head just a little further, Charles sent, «I _would_ like...» and interrupted himself, telling Erik reluctantly, «I suppose I should be clear about what I can get from you without half trying.» He shared his awareness of what Erik was just thinking, the surface musings, along with half-caught glimpses of accompanying images.

«I know,» said Erik. If anything he'd thought Charles might not be able to resist digging deeper than that. His fingertips scratched down to the back of Charles's neck, digging in just the slightest bit. «This isn't quite how I imagined any of this, but I'm not minding.»

«Certainly not what I imagined.» The words seemed simultaneously arch and contrite, carrying a little echo of the images Charles sent yesterday, the casual tumble into bed that he'd offered.

«No, I gathered not.» Erik felt a little bitter about that offer, still, about seeing for himself what he was worth to Charles at first glance. This was going to be much more, if he had anything to say about it. «You would like...? You never finished that statement.»

«You know.» Charles flicked his eyes up, clear bright blue. «You just want me to ask.»

Immediately, and with some force behind it, Erik replied aloud, "You're _going_ to ask."

Charles promptly said, "I _would_ like to suck you. That was the rest of that statement." He rubbed his cheek against Erik's thigh, not as if he were coaxing, but as if he simply wanted that much to touch him the only way he could, right now.

And-- damn it, Erik had meant to wait and draw this out, meant to make Charles work for it, but the moment Charles asked, Erik's whole body lit up with the desire to have that: Charles's mouth, the lips that had been driving him to distraction wrapped around his cock. «Not like this. In bed.»

Charles started to rise, but he glanced up at Erik again. «Oh. Really?» Before Erik even knew exactly what Charles had picked up from him, Charles went to hands and knees and crawled to the bed. It was so much what Erik wanted, so much more than he'd expected or would have asked for this soon, that he could only stare.

Still fully dressed right down to his shoes, Charles moved deliberately across the floor. He shared with Erik that he felt a little foolish, but satisfied too, matching himself to the image he'd perceived in Erik's mind; toeing his shoes off, he moved onto the bed and knelt there. «Yes?»

_"Yes."_ Erik stalked over to the bed, everything racing through his mind a dozen different variations of _yes, yes, yes,_ all his want for Charles, how long he felt he'd been waiting-- _since the boat... all my life... always,_ and he climbed onto the bed with Charles and slipped his hands under Charles's sweater, tugging it off over his head, leaving his hair ruffled across his brow. «Yes.»

« _Oh._ I really was trying to stay out of your head, I didn't know...» and Erik might be rankled by that again if there weren't a hopeful tinge to Charles's thought, if his breath weren't already quickening.

«You didn't know that what I really wanted was to own you and break you and put you back together piece-by-piece, to feel you crawl into my mind and make yourself at home there... sleeping at my feet.»

Charles's eyes went huge. «No? It's not that I'm ignorant of all this, you understand. Of course I've seen desires like that in people's minds before, but it's never been pertinent to me.»

«This is.» Erik cupped Charles's face in his hands, already so near to the edge of his ability to control himself that he nearly kissed him like that, kneeling together in the center of his bed. He wanted that, wanted that kiss. But he wanted it on his terms. 

This time he composed and sent the mental image deliberately: Charles lying down on his back, hands at his sides, eyes closed, reaching out only with his mind, waiting for Erik to straddle him and lower himself and finally kiss him.

Charles paused for a moment, and let Erik feel his faint temptation to try to do this his own way, inviting Erik with smiles and touches to simply fall into bed with him, that easily. Only a moment... and then Charles moved, arranging himself just as Erik pictured it.

«More. Let me feel that too,» Erik ordered.

A tiny hint of reluctance this time, but Charles obeyed, sharing that he felt a little silly again and a bit nervous, faintly embarrassed that he'd scrambled into place so hastily, with a sense of exposure, hands to his sides, conscious of his very evident erection tenting his trousers. He reached for reassurance again, not even verbally structuring the thought, «?»

«Yes, exactly that, just what I wanted.» Erik didn't hesitate, climbing onto Charles, knees pinning Charles's arms at his sides. He carefully settled down with space between them, enough to keep them from pressing against each other... yet. 

He lowered his face to Charles's and made them both wait, taking a soft, slow breath before gently and carefully pressing his lips to Charles's, coaxing Charles's mouth open, thinking at him firmly, «Mine, this is mine, you'll get yours later, hold still, this is for me.»

Charles parted his lips but otherwise he simply let Erik kiss him. His breath caught, his mental communication less certain and steady in Erik's mind: «Do I-- stay still or take cues from what you're thinking?»

And oh, that question stirred conflict in Erik-- on one hand, a lover who responded to his thoughts; on the other hand, constantly having to be careful what he wished for, because he might very well get it. «For now, don't act on my thoughts unless you get a direct order from me. When we know each other better...» His tongue moved hard and sure into Charles's mouth, the kiss solid and electrifying, and Charles made a lost little noise at that. Even if he'd sensed that coming, he must not have been prepared for how it would feel. 

Erik pulled back to enjoy the sight of Charles's mouth, soft with surprise, a little redder and wetter now. «...later, we'll revisit that question.»

«All right,» the response was hazy, colored with Charles's arousal and carrying a sense of his shock at how much this was affecting him, just from complying this way and receiving that single kiss.

Erik brought both hands up to slip into Charles's hair, teasing, caressing, finally holding-- not tightly, but unyielding, pinning Charles's head at the precise angle he wanted, just right so he could delve deeper into Charles's mouth, explore all the little motions that inflamed him, kissing him until he couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure and anticipation any longer.

«Will you let me...?» Charles thought. More than the words came into Erik's mind when he did that; while spoken words carried a tone that might suggest mood and meaning, these thoughts carried the associated emotions and connotations with them, a fuller expression than speaking could convey. _Will you let me_ echoed with the implications: _kiss you back, touch you, move; this feels so good, but I want so much to touch you._

Erik took a moment to bask in that, Charles wanting so badly, wanting to touch but holding back because Erik ordered him to keep still. He drew back, so he could see the look on Charles's face when he pressed his body down on top of Charles's and rubbed his hard-on roughly against Charles's cock.

Charles tensed as Erik made contact, visibly struggling to hold still. His brow tightened, eyes veiled almost shut and showing just a gleam of darkened blue, his lips bitten even darker than usual, mouth open, tendons standing out in his neck, his chest lifting with a shuddery breath. All that, but he didn't arch up, he didn't move; he obeyed.

Erik stared down at him, thunderstruck and awed at how very much Charles was giving him, compared to what he could, if he wanted to, take. He spread his knees and freed Charles's hands. «Now, Charles, now you can touch me, kiss me, move underneath me, you have permission, you can.»

Charles reached for him greedily, hands at Erik's waist, going straight for his fly; he stopped, meeting Erik's gaze, and shared his thoughts: as much as he wanted to pull Erik down onto him or open up his trousers and touch, he was equally compelled to put himself in Erik's hands, and rushing that way didn't seem to be what Erik wanted.

He let go of Erik's waistband and flattened his hands instead, sliding them up the ladder of Erik's abdominal muscles, the planes of his chest, his shoulders, his neck, up to brush the backs of his fingers against Erik's cheek. 

His lower lip trembled, and he licked it. Erik savored the sight of that. For all that deliberate, facile flirtation, some of the most sensual and appealing things about Charles were unconscious and unforced.

Levering himself up on one elbow, he kissed Erik, and that was a disappointment. He began gently, gradually pressing harder, opening his mouth... a hint of tongue, a nip of teeth and a deeper lick into Erik's mouth-- it was like a dance Charles knew the steps to, adapted to every partner differently, no doubt, but still: rote.

Erik pulled back and caught Charles's hand in his with a flash of anger, pressing Charles back down under him, pinning that hand at the wrist; his temper cooled once he was in control again. «No. You're not kissing just anyone right now; you're kissing me. Kiss me, or you can damned well wait.»

«I thought I was kissing you,» Charles retorted, confusion evident. «I don't think you're just anyone.» He looked at Erik's hand pinning his wrist, and met Erik's eyes again. «I wouldn't allow this from just anyone.»

Erik didn't ease his grip, but he rubbed his thumb over the inside of Charles's wrist. "I don't want your technique." He hesitated, but there was little point in hiding anything from Charles, not with permission granted to read his mind. "I want raw emotion from you, I want to feel you wanting me in the way your tongue curves against mine." The thought continued, not deliberately put forward, but no doubt perceptible to Charles: _I want to undress you, later, when you earn it: I want my mouth on your bare skin, I want yours on mine, I want to wrap my hand around both of us and bring us to the first climax of the evening..._

"I don't know how to unlearn how to kiss," Charles said aloud, his voice very low and a little rough. "I'm not... averse, I'm just not sure what you want. I don't think you want me to read you for how to kiss you either, that seems... contrary to the spirit of..." And there was a rare pleasure, watching Charles lose his grasp on words, from Erik's thoughts or his weight on him or that touch moving over his wrist. "Surely you could feel me wanting you though, how could you not-- or I'm really not doing it right."

Erik wasn't often inclined to be gentle, and he was none too pleased that Charles's flirtatious crutch was coming back in play. But even so, Charles was honestly asking, honestly trying, and Erik kept his voice quiet, drawing his thumbnail lightly down Charles's inner wrist as he spoke. "Think of a kiss as a conversation. I tell you something--" He kissed Charles again, deep, slow, easy, a kiss that said _I want you and I want to take my time_ «--and then you respond. You don't start over with a volley of your own. Meet me on my own terms; it's what I'm asking from you, through all of this.»

«I've never had any complaints before,» Charles let slip, frustrated.

«Apparently no one you were kissing wanted to own you before.»

«--No, likely not,» Charles blinked up at him, taken aback. He considered for a moment. Rather than sitting up, he lifted his free hand and laid it on Erik's face, stroking, inviting him closer, til they touched; he tilted his head, parting his lips, and pulled gently at Erik's mouth, opening to him, tracing Erik's mouth with his tongue, sucking lightly at his bottom lip.

«Yes...» Erik moaned deeply-- _this,_ this was so much of what he wanted, this was the way he wanted to learn from Charles, to have Charles learn from him. «Charles, yes, you're... so good, this feels...» He took over again, his mouth slanting hard and tight over Charles's, more urgent now, more intent, and his body picked up the rhythm to match. Moving against Charles beneath him, exhilarated simply by _having_ Charles here, _having him_ \-- Erik realized he could come this way if he were intent enough, that possibly he could make Charles come this way too if he were driving down against him like this, thinking the right thoughts.

«You could, you could make me, if you thought about it hard enough, if you came when I was open to you like this,» Charles thought in response. He circled one arm around Erik's shoulders, the other over his waist, Charles palming the small of his back, oddly decorous; going at his own pace again, instead of Erik's. «But if I ask--» He gasped and spoke aloud, strained, as Erik hitched his hips a little faster. "Oh-- wait," «if I ask nicely, would you not? Not yet, still dressed like this,» and his thoughts wheeled out of words and into simply an impression of distraught embarrassment, Charles imagining himself rather urbane and experienced and beyond that sort of thing, his pride already wounded from the remedial lesson in kissing.

Unspoken by them both, but certainly present between them, lay the shared understanding that Charles could stop him, stop any of this, any time, with a thought. And yet, he was asking.

«I'm sure you can ask very nicely... I'm positive you can be very persuasive, even without the use of your abilities...» Erik bit down on Charles's lower lip and pushed forward every fantasy he'd ever had about that mouth, this man, feeling Charles whine and _shake_ in response. «I want to see you come apart. I want to see you come.» He picked up the pace, his kisses harsh and demanding, his hips thrusting hard against Charles's, opening as much as he could to share that pleasure and satisfaction with him, how even the chafing discomfort of clothes between them seemed right, this first time, the way each rub and press and stroke felt as if he'd been waiting forever for them, the way it all felt _so good._

Groaning deep in his throat, dismayed, Charles slid his hand down to clutch Erik's ass trying to pull him down that much closer, the other hand fisting at the shoulder of Erik's shirt, his legs spreading, his mind throwing out more emanations, not quite fully formed thoughts: no one he ever slept with before knew about his mutation, and Erik deliberately trying to share thoughts with him was a shock in itself, let alone the substance of what Erik was putting across, that overwhelming tangle of fantasies and those sensations, the way it was so like and so unlike what Charles felt himself right now, all the little contrasts of their bodies, their positions and movements-- all the deep ways that their hunger and craving were just the same.

«I want this, want you... give me this, Charles, I want you like this,» Erik thought, putting all his desire into it.

«Erik, please-- please--» And deliciously, Charles gave up, gave himself over to it, his back bowing up and his breath going frantic as he voiced a smothered cry, coming with Erik's mouth still sealed on his.

It was the best sort of shock; Erik thought he'd have to hit his peak himself to set Charles off like that, but here he was, overcome and shuddering in Erik's arms, _perfect;_ Erik's whole body flooded with satisfaction at the feel of him. His own release was so much more than merely an orgasm; it was weeks of building desire finally reaching a crescendo, the thrill of possessing everything he'd longed for-- it was _better_ because Charles had come at him all wrong that first time, better that Erik had to coax him and work for it, better that he had no doubt he'd be wrestling with Charles for dominance for some time to come.

He couldn't wait.


End file.
